


It Wasn't That Much...

by DigitalGhost



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Kink, Christmas, Christmas Party, Chubby Kink, Chubby stucky, Chubby!Steve Rogers, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kinkmas, M/M, Pining, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Weight Gain, chubby bucky, chubby steve, chubby!bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalGhost/pseuds/DigitalGhost
Summary: "By the way, we have a mission." Bucky whispered to him. "We're supposed to bring dessert to the Christmas party on the 25th. Since you can't be trusted with this by yourself, I'll be helping you make it.""Me and you?" Steve asked."Me and you." Bucky nodded.He felt a little more hopeful now. Come on, how bad could making desserts be?





	It Wasn't That Much...

**Author's Note:**

> hahaaa first smutty fic, i hope i did well ^^ enjoy  
> also like lowkey inspired by https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963371

 

 

It all started on Thanksgiving.

After the big Avengers dinner, they were relaxing in the living room, tongues more loose after they'd all had a few drinks. Steve was sitting next to Bucky, on a two-person couch, Bucky's legs sprawled on top of his lap.

"As much as I love Nat's…  _foreign_  recipes, I think we should go for desserts a little more American for the Christmas party." Tony was saying, lounging next to Pepper.

"American food is so bland, though." Natasha commented with a smirk as she took another sip of her wine.

"Nothin' quite beats a good ol' apple pie," Sam added from the other couch.

"Apple pie, American food… Steve, how come you're not joining in on this?" Bucky asked, a playful tone in his voice.

"Buck, you know how good of a cook I am." Steve said, trying to not let this become something he'd be teased about. Again.

"What's this?" Tony inquired. "The great Captain America can't cook?"  
"Oh, you have no idea." Bucky started, sitting forward in his seat with a grin. Steve groaned.

"So this one time, we were making scrambled eggs, right? Pretty hard to burn, even back then…. Anyway, we were out of salt, so I told him, 'Alright Stevie, I'm just gonna go over to the general store, just a few blocks away. Don't burn the house down.' So I left, hurryin' down to the store. But you know him, ya leave him alone for five minutes even, he's gonna do somethin' stupid." Bucky said, laughing while Steve tried in vain to hide his embarrassment. "I'm only gone for not even ten minutes, but when I walk in, the stove's still smoking and our eggs are black. All he says is, 'I didn't think they were cooking fast enough.'"

The whole room laughed while Steve muttered, "Oh, god" to himself.

"Buck, you either need more or less drinks to stop spilling stories about me," He said, getting up from the couch. Bucky playfully slapped his ass as he walked off to the kitchen.

He poured two cups of wine, taking his time to drink the contents of the second one. After a few minutes, he decided it was safe as it could be, and ventured back to the living room.

He found the conversation topic was no longer his sub-par cooking, but instead a story of what a drunk Tony had done at a New Years' Eve party years ago. Steve handed Bucky his drink, and sat down back on the couch.

"By the way, we have a mission now." Bucky whispered to him before sipping the wine.

"What is it? Where?" Steve asked, wondering why everyone was still chatting about Tony's pole dancing skills.

Bucky chuckled. "Not that kind of mission, stupid. I mean a more normal, domestic mission. We're supposed to bring dessert to the Christmas party on the 25th. Since you can't be trusted with this by yourself, I'll be helping you make it."

"Me and you?"

"Me and you."

He felt a little more hopeful now. Come on, how bad could making desserts be?

 

* * *

"Mmm… Needs more sugar."

"Stop licking the spoon!"

"How else am I supposed to taste-test your attempts?"  
As it turned out, Bucky's idea of helping in the kitchen was sitting on the counter, nitpicking Steve's work and grabbing bits of dough whether or not he thought Steve was looking.

Contrary to Steve's opinion even just yesterday at Thanksgiving, baking was a lot easier then he'd thought it'd be. The recipe had very specific instructions and tips, and add that to Bucky's occasional advice (always given through a mouthful of cookie dough), he thought he was doing alright.

"Don't just roll them into balls, Stevie, if you use a tablespoon they'll be more even."

Or not.

He did as Bucky advised, choosing not to mention how many more cookies they could've made, if they had more dough. If Bucky was liking the cookie dough this much though, it probably meant the cookies would turn out okay.

He set the cookie sheets in the oven, cooking a total of a little more than two dozen cookies. Bucky helped him clean up the mess, and they enveloped themselves in some random sitcom until the oven beeped.

The cookies, once cooled, were actually pretty good, though Bucky's comment of needing more sugar turned out to be true. Overall though, they seemed good enough for Christmas party.

Bucky, however, insisted that Steve practice his baking skills everyday, hopefully to the point where he could do it successfully without assistance. After a moment, Steve agreed. Practice makes perfect, after all.

But even the perfect soldier failed to notice that though only ten cookies were eaten that evening, in the morning, they were all gone.

  
  


* * *

The next day, Steve thought he'd try for a breakfast baked good. Turning pages of a cookbook he'd found in a cupboard, something caught his eye.  _'German pancakes'_  it read. Intrigued, he began preheating the oven.

By the time Bucky got out of the shower (he said the warm water helped with his PTSD), the pancakes only had two minutes left to bake. He walked into the kitchen, wet hair pulled up in a bun, seeming cheerful as he peeked into the oven.

"What is that, a cake?" Bucky asked, half-mocking. He un-peeled a banana and leaned casually against the counter.

"No, the recipe said it was German pancakes." Steve replied.

"But it's one big pancake thing!"

"It said we're supposed to cut it…"

Bucky shook his head, moving to throw away the empty peel. "It better be some pancake, then."

The German pancakes did not disappoint. They both had at least three slices, Steve cutting off and eating little sections and pieces of the slices until surprisingly, there was none left. He glanced up at Bucky, shrugging with his mouth still full. "I guess I made less than I thought." He said as he stood up to bring the dishes to the sink, adjusting his jeans as he did so.

And that was how November turned into December; Steve baking some treat or fancy dish at least twice a day, Bucky taste-testing the dough or batter as he worked, and them both celebrating (eating) Steve's improving baking skills afterward. There never seemed to be any leftovers.

Steve didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, until one day in about mid-December…

  
  


* * *

"Oh, great job, Buck," Steve said sarcastically, eyeing the freshly-made mess. Chocolate chips were scattered across the floor.

"Hey, you're the one who put them so close to the edge." Bucky replied indignantly, hopping off the counter and bending down to pick up the fallen chocolate.

Steve's reply was lost in his throat, as his eyes found their way to Bucky's ass, on full display from his bending down.

Not only did his jeans slip down a little, showing the start of his crack, but the ass itself seemed… bigger than usual. There was more of it, round and perfect, easily curving down to his thighs, which he saw were of the same likes. He eyes the sweater Bucky wore, watched as it slipped down his torso, slowly, watching more skin be revealed, soft, plumpy-looking, even squishy…

"Hey, Steve," Bucky said suddenly. He stood back up, causing Steve to jolt back to reality. "You gonna help or not?"

"Right…" He muttered, blushing as he retrieved the dustpan, and also bent down to clean up the chips.

Huh. Had these pants of his always been this tight? He adjusted his belt, loosening it one notch, and continued to work, images of that soft and squishy skin floating though his mind.

  
  


* * *

Two days later (two days consisting of a Texas sheet cake, two packages of cinnamon rolls, a pumpkin pie, and two dozen muffins), Steve stood in his closet, frustrated as he yanked his dress pants up around his thighs, which seemed harder to do than usual. Not as hard, though, as doing the zipper and button. He sucked in as much as could, and after a few minutes, he could finally get the zipper up all the way, and the button through the fasten. Barely.  _'It's fine,'_  He told himself, reaching for his belt.

Speaking of the belt, he was now on the third from last notch, and even that was a tight fit.

Steve sat down on the edge of his bed, testing whether the pants would hold for the night. Quite tight, especially on his waist and thighs, but it would do. Hopefully.

Every week, he and Bucky (and sometimes Sam, or maybe Natasha) went out to dinner, for a bit of variety. Tonight, just the two of them were going to a very fancy Italian place.

"Hey, Buck, you ready to go?" He called, grabbing his suit coat.

"Uh, yeah, just a sec." Bucky walked out a moment later, also adorning his suit coat. Steve tried his best not to stare at Bucky's chest. Or his thighs. Or his ass.

God, it was going to be a tough night.

 

* * *

"Sir, would you like any dessert tonight?"

He looked across at Bucky, silently questioning him.  _Did_  Bucky want any dessert?

Of course, it didn't matter that Steve had already adjusted his belt three times, or that his zipper had slowly unzipped by itself throughout the course of the night. It  _especially_  didn't matter that Steve felt like he would burst from fullness any second, because if Bucky wanted dessert, he would eat the  _goddamn dessert_.

"Yes, I think we would." Steve said, seeing Bucky's expression.

They ordered two double chocolate brownies with some fancy ice cream on the top. After the waiter left, Steve awkwardly excused himself to go to the bathroom, in the hopes that if he emptied his bladder, his stomach would feel less full.

He was wrong. The bursting feeling was still… Wait. Was that-?

It was. As he'd grabbed paper towels from the dispenser, he'd glanced at the mirror on his left. What stared back was unreal.

He was… what was the word… Plump? Chubby? Overweight? However you phrased it, the reality was the same: a gut - yes, an actual  _gut_  - was squeezed into his pants which hugged his large thighs like a second skin. His razor-sharp jawlines was not so razor-sharp anymore; it was a lot more soft, smooth, easily morphing into his thicker neck.

Almost in disbelief, Steve raised a hand, and slapped his stomach. Not even that hard, but hard enough that it caused a ripple across his belly, and even shook his thighs. A very strange feeling.

He faintly heard another person approaching the bathroom, so he quickly rebuttoned his suit coat, smoothed his hair, and went out the door.

  
  


* * *

"Oh my God, Steve, these are so big!" Bucky cried in delight as the waiter set their plates down in front of them.

They were, in fact, so big. The plates were the size of their regular dinner plates, and not a bit of it was empty. The brownie itself looked to be about the size of Steve's palm, and as thick as.. as, well, himself. Large scoops of ice cream covered the top of it, as well as surrounded it on all sides.

Bucky began eating immediately, hungry as he was (somehow). Steve slowly cut off a chunk of the brownie, almost hesitant to eat.

_'Bucky wanted to go here, Bucky wanted this dessert… Just eat it!'_

So he did.

And again.

And again.

And again.

He only had about a quarter left when he felt a very sudden decrease of pressure around his waist, followed by a soft ' _clink'_  against his belt. He tried to be nonchalant about it as he checked his pants, but it probably didn't work very well, if it looked as awkward as it felt.

Steve had… popped a button. A button. In public. Not only a button, but the  _one_  button to his pants. God.

"Stevie?" Bucky asked slowly, looking over at him. "Do you not like it?"

"Oh, no, I do! I love it, we should come here more often." He said, quickly finishing up his brownie to prove it. He could feel his shirt buttons and belt straining.

Bucky smiled brightly. "Good, cause I liked it too. Back home, then?"

 

* * *

Two weeks.

Two weeks since the Italian restaurant. He'd tried to cut back on the heavy eating, fix whatever had happened to him, but it wasn't working. Bucky still had him testing his cooking skills every day, and insisted Steve help on devouring the finished product. He couldn't say no.

Of course, add that to the fact that since it was the holiday season, people were bringing over treats and having parties seemingly every other day. Bucky was very excited at trying some of the more interesting food, and of course it was always the one with the highest calories. But Bucky would look at him, pleading, and he couldn't say no.

He'd even tried tagging along to one of Sam's early morning runs. What used to be an easy, ten-minute run had turned into a long, forty-five minute run, full of panting, walking breaks, and stitches in his sides. He had worn a  _very_  baggy shirt and sweatpants, so Sam hadn't been able to see what was the problem.

Every morning, he'd get out of the shower, and stand atop an old weight scale he'd found. No matter his efforts, the number would slowly climb. Every day.

So, he accepted it. He wore only baggy shirts, sweats, and Christmas sweaters, so he wouldn't have to fret about too-tight jeans. With Bucky in the same get-up, he even upped his treat-making to three times a day. He playfully fought Bucky for who would get the slightly bigger serving, and would often mindlessly snack as he went about his day. All in all, not a bad way to spend the holidays.

Until something big came along and popped him right out of his bubble…

 

* * *

"Uh… Steve?"

It was December 23rd, and they had a formal Christmas dinner party at Stark Tower later that evening. Steve hadn't even thought about starting to get ready, but Bucky had disappeared into his room ten minutes ago.

"Be right there, Buck." Steve called, and grunted with effort at getting up off the couch. Sometimes it seemed he acted more like a pregnant woman than a somewhat overweight man.

He walked into Bucky's room, and was  _definitely_  unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

Bucky… wow. Compared to him, Steve was like a chubby bunny, and he'd gained nearly forty pounds just since the Italian restaurant.

The only thing that he was wearing was a pair of black pants, stretched so tight there was a large rip along the inner seam. They were unbuttoned and fully unzipped, but Bucky's stomach still  _spilled_  out of the waistband. Rolls of fat were piled, one on top of another, until they reached his pecs, which seemed to spill over his chest. His flesh arm was bigger and more blubbery, and the metal one seemed to have expanded along with the rest of his body.

Chubby ( _very_  chubby) cheeks gave way to scared eyes, and only then did it occur to Steve;  _'Bucky might not think he liked this.'_

"'m sorry, Steve…" He mumbled, clearly ashamed. "I just… these pants were too tight, and I thought you could…" Bucky shrugged, causing a rippling effect across his chest. Steve had to pinch himself just to form words.

"Buck, I-" He started, but was interrupted.

"No, it's me who who should be sorry!" Bucky cried, and plopped down on his bed. "I just wanted to support you with your cooking, but I…" He sniffled. "I ate too much, and now I'm a fat, ugly pig…"

No, you're just… " Steve trailed off as he realized what he needed to do. "You're not the only one who ate too much."

Bucky looked up at him with big, slightly wet eyes, looking confused, and  _God_  if he wasn't hard before he surely was now.

He smiled, soaking in all of Bucky as he himself stripped, taking off his sweater, his too-small undershirt, his pants, his underwear.

Bucky looked over Steve's body in awe, eyes slowing at his thicker arms, his extra-chubby stomach, his overly large thighs, his hard cock. Bucky unconsciously bit his lip, that's all it was, a small thing, but that's all it took to set Steve off, just a small, little thing like that and he was off. He took two steps toward Bucky and grabbed his oh-so-chubby cheeks in his own meaty hands and is that what Bucky's plumpy lips tasted like against his,  _oh wow,_  even Steve's improved holiday cooking hadn't been this delicious. He pressed his belly into Bucky's more impressive one, feeling blissed out as their chubby bodies pushed into each other.

He poured all his passion through his lips into Bucky, and he wasn't sure if it would work but Bucky sure got the message, because he started to work those tight-as-fuck pants off his thick legs, keeping his lips glued onto Steve's. Steve dropped his hands down to Bucky's hips, helping him with that tight waistband, and  _oh God,_  his fingers were touching Bucky's skin, it was so goddamn soft, he wanted to squeeze it, to slap it, but now was not the time, just a little bit longer-

They collapsed onto the bed once the pants were down to Bucky's  knees, and he shimmied to get them off, then his underwear. They were both completely naked now, and Steve chanced a glance downward, and- oh, Bucky's dick was beautiful, and of course hard as a rock, a contrast to the rest of his plump, soft body.

Bucky moaned as Steve finally acted on his wish, taking BUcky's fat and squeezing it, slapping it, kissing it, anything he could think of, all the while rubbing his cock against Bucky's.

"Looks like -  _oooh_  - looks like all those treats were worth it, Stevie," Bucky whimpered. And Steve hadn't even come yet.

"Oh, no." Steve said, his voice low and husky as he traced his finger along Bucky's dick. "We have a new rule; you can't eat anything ever again… unless I feed it to you."

" _Mhm!_  How much food is that gonna be..?"

"Mmm… Too much…"  
Steve laid on top of Bucky and grinded against him, feeling Buck's infinite chubbiness beneath his own; double the curves, double the fat, double the hard cocks.

"I love… how you're bigger than me…" He breathed into Bucky's chest after a while, now back to squeezing the thickness all across this beautiful body.

Bucky only moaned in response, thus turning Steve on even more, and so Steve came, all over Bucky and a little on the bed sheet.

They didn't care. After Steve came, Bucky seemed to grow impatient, and rolled them both over, Bucky's great weight on top of him now, causing them both to sink deeper into the mattress.

With Bucky's meaty fingers, he'd though it be harder, but no, Bucky got inside him as easily as the first dessert of the day would get inside Steve's mouth. It was so exhilarating, he could only gasp and moan.

As he himself had done earlier, Bucky squeezed Steve's waist, then his hips, and he hadn't even realized how much weight he'd put on there, but Bucky's tight hands clenching his fat quickly distracted him from that thought.

Buck dragged his tongue up Steve's large and extremely flabby chest, creating a sweet, tingling sensation on those spots and causing a faint moan to rise out of Steve's throat. His tongue - those plump, red lips,  _God_  - came up to Steve's thick neck, and he caught him in a deep kiss, their tongues sharing a kiss of their own and they rolled around on the bed, oblivious to everything but the other overweight man that they held so much love for.

 

* * *

Steve was just lying there on Bucky's bed, softly kissing the other man's wonderfully thick and jiggly belly. He felt elated from the post-sex bliss, and didn't feel much like informing Tony that they wouldn't be there for the party. He'd find out eventually anyway.

Lazily tracing Bucky's belly buttons, a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Hey, Buckie-bear, are you hungry?"

Bucky looked around his stomach and down at Steve with a smile. "I'm only hungry if you're feeding me."

Steve got up off the bed and pulled Bucky up into a small kiss before leading him to the kitchen. "That was my plan."

 

* * *

 

Steve's dessert for the Avengers Christmas party turned out great. They all joked and laughed over food and drinks, but Steve didn't tell them everything.

He didn't tell them how Steve hadn't had "actually" healthy food since November, and how he made several desserts with Bucky every day, with the term 'leftovers' forever foreign to them.

At the New Year's Eve party, he didn't tell them how he'd put on about thirty pounds since Christmas, and Bucky nearly twice that, thought it wasn't all that easy to hide anymore, even with their holiday sweaters, as a raised eyebrowed look from Natasha proved.

He definitely didn't mention what he and Bucky had been doing in the night, even when he'd mentioned they were shopping for a new bed (one that could take the weight of two 250+ pound men wriggling around).

They mostly just stayed in their own little world, Steve's love for his partner growing faster than even Bucky's waistline.

 

**Author's Note:**

> my mom: so i know you're a good writer, what sort of things do you write?  
> me, slowly closing my notebook: uhhhhh  
> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!! ^^


End file.
